The Book of the Lion Read Free Page B

invest a bit of money without knowing what it is I’m buying. They’ve all agreed to have the money available instantly if we need it.”v“I’m so sorry, T.M.” said Hallkyn. “I’ve heard nothing. I should have known the whole thing was too good to be true. I’m almost certain I’ve been duped.”
    â€œ Almost certain,” Spanner simply repeated it.
    Hallkyn was quiet for a moment. “I’m pretty sure. And it was so unlikely to begin with. Over six hundred years have passed, without even a rumor that the book still existed.”
    â€œI respect your telling me, and I thank you for your apology, Dom. But if you don’t mind—and even if you do—I’m going to keep the money available for the moment. No money has actually been borrowed, nobody has had to sell anything. We’ve only agreed to keep some assets liquid for a while.”
    â€œYou don’t have to,” said Hallkyn. “I feel pretty stupid about this, and I don’t want you to risk your reputation on a hoax.”
    â€œNo harm done,” he said. “We won’t worry about this for now. Just be aware that the money is going to be available.”
    The call came seventeen hours later. Hallkyn was on his way to the university in his car, and when his cell phone rang and vibrated it startled him. He pulled his car over to the curb and answered. “Yes?”
    â€œHello, Professor Hallkyn.” The voice was unmistakable—a bit nasal, pitched a tiny bit higher than the ear liked to hear, the diction formal. Hallkyn had listened to the message so many times that he recognized every tone, every inflection. “Is this a good time for us to speak?”
    â€œI’ve pulled over to the side of the road,” said Hallkyn.
    â€œI assume you got my message.”
    â€œI got a message,” said Hallkyn.
    â€œYes. I only called once. And then I gave you some time to think about it, and then to prepare to talk in specific terms. I have what I believe is the only remaining copy of The Book of the Leoun .” This time he pronounced it using Middle English vowels. “For all we know, it might be the only one ever made for public use after Chaucer’s personal draft.”
    â€œWhat makes you think it’s genuine, or that it’s the The Book of the Lion , by Chaucer? There were plenty of lion images throughout medieval literature, and plenty of people with that nickname—Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony, for instance.”
    â€œIt says it’s The Book of the Lion by Geoffrey Chaucer on the first page. I had a snip of the vellum carbon-dated, and it dates to the mid- 1390’s. The poetry is, like everything else Chaucer wrote, flawless, earthy, brilliant, spiritual, funny, dirty.”
    Hallkyn tried to sound less enticed than he was. “When can I see it?”
    â€œNow. I’ve sent you a précis and some sample pages already.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œIt’s an email attachment. You can look any time you want.”
    â€œAre you expecting me to authenticate a manuscript, particularly one of this importance, to risk my reputation and credibility without so much as inspecting it in person?”
    â€œI’m not expecting you to do anything. I’m just giving you the opportunity to look.” And then the man hung up.
    Dominic Hallkyn sat in his car by the side of the road, watching the windshield wipers sweeping back and forth to clear the water away, bock-bock, bock-bock . While he hadn’t been paying attention, the rain had picked up. The wipers’ speed was now too slow, so every time the wipers passed, the rain gained back all the territory that had been cleared before the blades swept back.
    Hallkyn realized that he hated the man with the book. He was arrogant, Hallkyn could tell, and he was enjoying holding the prize and making the world wait and drool like starving dogs—making Dominic Hallyn